Where We Belong
by Andrea Sinisterra
Summary: [One Shot] AU, 1xR. Seventeen years spent missing someone. Forty four years spent loving them.


**Where We Belong**  
by Andrea Sinisterra  
Romance / Mild angst  
Rated PG  
_Standard Disclaimers Apply_

**Author's Note:** Originally written for Adaon, but now I refuse.

I swear I'm in a writing-rampage. I don't think I've ever written this much in two months. Wai for me!

**Warnings:** Not proofread.

**  
oOo  
**

**April 1980 - **A chorus of infant's cries filtered through the echoing halls of St. Jude's maternity ward. Two mothers-one with a shock of dark hair and startling hazel eyes; the other with soft blond hair and riveting, light blue eyes-, stood beside each other, staring through the window pane at the lines of newborns, covered in blue and pink, amazed at how their two little babies could manage to sleep peacefully through the ruckus of the wailing infants around them.

**  
September 1985 - **Sometimes he would make her cry. She would be playing in the garden, sitting in the lovely purple blanket her mother had sewn, watching the idle butterfly flutter by. He would come unannounced and steal her ribbon, or pull on her hair; sometimes he would take her shoe or something or the other; whichever thing was holding her attention at the moment, he would snatch away. Because he was like that.

**  
July 1988 - **Random attacks, as if in the spur of the moment, she would lean over and steal a kiss. Innocently and in a fitful of giggles, she would plant a smooch on his unsuspecting cheek and bounce away, not giving him enough time to react. Sometimes he would yell at her, other times he'd rub his cheek as if disgusted.

They sit under the evergreen in his parents' lawn, entranced as they watch the display of blazing fireworks illuminating the sky in a beautiful arrange of light, celebrating the day's festivities.

**  
April 1989 – **They were almost ten, almost teenagers; just one more year to go. She had spent an entire week trying to think of a present for him, something that he would like and that no other kid would even think of giving him. One week turned into two and then into three, and still she couldn't think of anything good enough to give her best friend.

The night before their birthday—balloons and streamers tucked away safely in his basement, candies and giveaways in her storage room—, she had snuck into his house and into his room, a mess of sleep-fuddled hair and tears, desperate and inconsolable. She had stopped short, then. She had expected to find him asleep, it was long past their curfew after all—she had certainly not expected to see him huddled over his desk, tongue stuck out and to the side in concentration as he tried to sew what looked like a teddy bear. _Moe_, he'd said was his name.

She had insulted him, then; first time she had ever called him a name.

**  
April 1990 – **They had always celebrated their birthdays together. They were best friends, neighbors, their parents were close… Why wouldn't they celebrate it together? Ten years old, and he was moving away. Why couldn't his parents wait one more week until their birthday? Why was he in a car, watching her figure holding the plush bear he had given her last year grow smaller and smaller the farther they moved? And why, why was she crying? Why wasn't she coming with him? No… he didn't understand.

**  
November 1991 –** She had just received mail. She was used to getting mail now. Ever since he moved away, more than a year ago, she received a letter at least twice every month. But this one was special; it was a Thanksgiving card, complete with his moronic doodles adorning every single space; his awkward, kind of wobbly handwriting forming words and sentences that always made her cry.

**  
June 1997 – **Graduation. His arm was slung around a girl's shoulders, her wavy dark brown hair capturing the light in its luscious locks. Every now and then, she would look up at him—he had had a growth spurt last year, towering several inches above the average teenage—utter adoration in the curve of her lips.

Yet, her eyes were not blue, and her skin was not as fair, her hair was not honey blond… and her voice was not hers.

One would think that after so many years—seven to be exact, he would have gotten over her image. He remembered when they used to exchange mail every single week, until the letters started dropping in frequency; one for the holidays, another for a birthday, a random one here and there.

He flung his cap into the air as tradition called, watching it flutter and mix with hundreds more, her childish laughter ringing through his mind.

**  
December 2001 –** She had seen him a couple of months ago giving a speech on TV. He was now a big shot computer engineer, hired by some equally high-profile software developing company. She had been shocked; she had been sitting with her boyfriend of almost 4 years on her apartment's couch, flipping idly through channels, when she had lurched forward at the image, so unmistakable, of her childhood friend, so vivid and real she felt the instant tears sting her eyes.

For a moment, perhaps a minute or two, she had started to fantasize… fantasize about things she had forbidden her foolish heart to wish for.

**  
July 2003 – **He watched her storm out his apartment door in a rage, probably never to return again. The argument was not new; they had been having it for the better part of a year—where she would ask him for commitment, to settle down, to marry her… The answer was always the same, only the wording and scenarios changed. It didn't matter if it they were having dinner at a fine restaurant, or strolling leisurely at the park, or even lounging together in front of his TV set; the answer was always the same: he just wasn't ready.

When would he be? Probably never, but that wasn't her problem or business.

He didn't blame her, though; in fact, he was amazed they had lasted this long. He was a workaholic; she'd always accuse him of—the real truth.

_She_ had gotten married a few months ago. His mother had somehow found out and rushed to tell him the news. Perhaps it was to taunt him, mock him or torture him. Maybe she had been trying to prod him into action or reaction. _You're like a robot! A lifeless human being!_, she'd told him—another truth.

**  
December 2007 – **She rarely thought of him anymore. After all, seventeen years was a very long time to spend missing someone… Or so her mother had said.

She sat on the floor of her new house, surrounded in ripped gift wrapping and discarded bows, Christmas lights and recorded carols, her children laughing in their innocence in front of her. And she laughed along.

**  
March 2008 –** He had married her a few months later after that July night, five years ago. She had come back, issuing orders and an ultimatum. And he had taken the chance. He was glad he had.

It had been worth it while it lasted. They had been married for four years; and apparently that had been enough.

**  
October 2010 –** She saw him in person this time. It was a chilly October day, autumn leaves dancing a tandem with the wind, whispering across the graveyard's grounds in a silent symphony. She felt touched he had come to bid farewell to her father; after all, her father had been like a second parent to him all those years ago.

His eyes were darker than she remembered; they were both different people now. He was taller, too; more serious—but then again, they were attending a funeral; what was there to be glad about?

The tightening of her husband's arm around her waist was a warning, and she dropped her gaze.

She wouldn't see him standing there anymore.

**  
October 2010 – **He had one and a million ideas running through his head; one and a million plans he wanted to develop and bring to life. He was a man with a new vision.

**  
February 2013 –** She found herself standing once again there, only the autumn leaves rang an absence in her memory, replaced instead with the warmth of early spring.

Her daughters wept softly before her as the coffin was slowly brought down into the earth below, as if it silently claimed its belongings to be returned.

And she cried, she mourned her loss…

**  
May 2015 – **Working two jobs simultaneously was starting to take its toll on him. It didn't matter that this new business had no relation whatsoever to his specialty, it didn't matter at all. He'll wait a few more months to establish his new business, before quitting his job and dedicating himself fully into this.

**  
April 2024 –** Her daughters had asked her out to dinner to celebrate her forty-fourth birthday; she tried not to laugh—her oldest daughter, who now had a job of her own, felt intensely proud that she could finally invite her mother out to dinner and _really _pay.

She had never been to this particular restaurant, not that it made any difference. Victoria could have taken her to the McDonald's around the corner, and she would have been just as happy. But she wanted to please her, and who was she to complain? She would anyway reimburse her by 'lending' her some money for any unanticipated expenses. She just wasn't ready to really let her go… Not just yet.

Marianne, a year younger with nineteen, was just happy still being 'mommy's little girl'.

She saw him, then; he was standing by the bar in a separate section of the restaurant, talking with a waiter and the bartender. It was strange watching the boy who used to pull on her pigtails when she was three, now a man with gray hairs freckling his temples, rugged lines around his mouth, age settled comfortably on his broad shoulders.

No, she had never imagined she could still feel the sudden rush of emotion fill her whole the moment he turned slightly to his right and their eyes collided. Somehow, it was different than it was when they spotted each other at her father's funeral, oh, so many years ago. Everything about him had the essence of the passage of time embedded into it.

Victoria would ask her if she was okay, concern edging her words; Marianne would start looking around, trying to pinpoint the target of her mother's gaze…

And all she could do was just sit there and laugh like she's never laughed before, she laughed so hard her sides hurt and her heart lurched, laughed so hard her eyes filled up with tears.

Yes… she laughed because she was happy. She was happy when she got a birthday cake from the _management_; she was happy when she read both their names on the icing; she was happy when her daughters laughed along.

No… she had never laughed like this before. Not even when moments later she received a small note in his wobbly handwriting, silly doodles and all, asking for Moe's whereabouts and a date.

Forty-four years was a very long time loving someone.

**The End**


End file.
